It was easier packing when she was leaving St. Rosemunde. There were far fewer attachments there.
Miren didn't have much, but what she did have was either propped on her mattress or piled in her suitcase. In all honesty, she had no real plan in motion. She just figured that if she could pack everything up quickly, Jeno wouldn't be able to stop her.
Half-way through, Miren decided, placing some sneakers on the cover of her suitcase. She was making progress, and with Jeno's tennis match, she knew she'd have enough time.
Until he came barging through the door.
"Jeno?" She had to stop herself from yelling. He placed his racket and bag by his bed. He began to unzip his tennis jacket before his gaze found hers. Then her bed.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, marching toward her. She stood her ground, parting her mouth to say the coyest thing that could come to mind.
"What are you doing here?" Yeah, muy coy.
"Home game." His eyes narrowed on her suitcase. "The team sucked. So it ended quickly." Then his hands were on it, removing random articles of clothing.
"Hey!" she said, pulling his hands away. But because there was some biological rule that boys who played sports were stronger than girls who just read books, her intervention didn't do much good.
"I have to go," she said firmly, not even bothering to mask her voice like she usually did. Jeno narrowed his eyes at her, halting his resistance efforts. For now, at least.
"You're doing it again."
"What?"
"Running."
Miren's hands flew in the air. "Aren't you the one who's been preaching that this isn't permanent?" They fell to her side in a dramatic clap. "If I wait any longer it's just going to get harder. I can't graduate as Miles Ellison."
Her glare intensified on the boy, forcing him to see her. "I still exist, remember?"
"And I want you to exist." His gaze was soft and steady on hers. "But going back to Rosemunde right now would be like running outside in a lightning storm. Penelope will just strike back with even more vengeance."
"You don't think I know that?" She knew that St. Rosemunde was Penelope's school. That although Parker and Artemis' efforts toward her were appropriate and flattering, they really couldn't do much in an environment where Penelope reigned as queen. Or at least, where she used to reign as queen.
But things were different. Miren was stronger. She was in no mood to play the role of the weak, defenseless bookworm. Being at Rinzen had tested her inner strength. Her boundaries. And if she could survive as the only female among males, then couldn't she do a little bit better than just survive Penelope's wrath?
"Don't go back," he said softly. His hands were on her shoulders, forcing her to face him. She tried to avert her gaze, but his held strong.
"Do you really think I want to?" A large part of her didn't, even despite Artemis' valiant efforts. But another part of her felt that she had overstayed her welcome. Her goal was to survive here. Not to get comfortable. And she had.
Jeno sighed, releasing his grip. "No." He began to pace the room, rubbing a hand through his messy black hair. He stopped when he realized that he technically couldn't stop her.
"I can have the headmaster help you. He could help ensure that Penelope's in check with Headmistress Castro..." The tone of his voice made the offer sound promising...but was it wrong if she chose not to accept it?
She shook her head. Of course not. "I don't want this to be a big deal." Or for it to blow up in her face. She didn't doubt that Headmaster Edsel was a reasonable person, or that she could come clean to him. But she didn't actually know what would happen if she exposed herself. And she didn't want to get anyone else in trouble by taking such a risky approach.
"I'll have Wallace help me with the transfer documents again," she offered, resuming her packing. "We'll say Miles is transferring to yet another school because of his parents divorce or something. Maybe he has to leave the country." She tapped her head with her index finger. See, she had it all figured out. Sort of.
However, Jeno glared at her, his rusty brown eyes unconvinced. Miren pursed her lips before pulling her hairpiece off her bed.
"Besides," she began, placing the wig as straight as she could on her head. "I look better as a girl anyway." She offered him a playful grin.
Jeno shook his head, brushing her false hair straight, his fingers lingering on her cheeks. "You look beautiful no matter what."
She thought of dismissing his complement until she saw the look in his eyes. He was serious. Well, more serious than usual.
Her mouth parted as she became lost in them. She could feel his warm breath against her lips as his hands shifted to her jaw, tilted her head closer to his. She closed her eyes.
There was a knock on the door, and her eyes shot open. With a sigh, Jeno reluctantly withdrew her and opened the door.
Wallace barged past them.
"W-What are you doing here?" Miren said, slightly in a daze. Mr. Handsome Boy just called her beautiful and almost...she shook her head. It was slightly alarming (and mostly wonderful) but hey, she'd take it.
Wallace turned around, his eyes burning against her's for a good second before he delved further into the room.
"No hello?" he asked bluntly, his attention focusing on the mini TV propped on Jeno's dresser.
"Hello," Jeno said, playing along with the boy. "Now could you please tell us what all the fuss is about? And possibly leave while you're at it?"
Wallace scoffed before manually changing the channel. "I'm just going to ignore the hurtful sting of your joint eagerness to get rid of me." He groaned, pressing the down button on the small screen more persistently. "Geez, don't you have a remote?!"
Before anyone could intervene, Wallace straightened up, retreating to the company of Miren and Jeno.
"What is it?" Jeno asked.
"You have to see this."
There was a commercial about cat litter, then the logo for the channel seven news appeared on the screen. A blonde anchorman on location began speaking.
"We're at the corner of Penn Street and Avalon Drive, reporting live from Gloveria, Connecticut. Behind me are the ashes of where Beal's Bakery used to stand. Although it's been abandoned for years, a body was found. This body is believed to belong to Miren Eze, a missing student from St. Rosemunde Academy for Young Ladies, which is located approximately five miles away from here. At the scene, an inscribed necklace with her name was also found near it. The body recovered is being tested for DNA. But with the incredibly high level of incineration, and the investigators being unable to find dental records, it is fellow classmate and friend Penelope van Helsing who believes that the body is in fact Miren's."
Penelope graced the screen. But graced might have been too strong of a word.
"It has to be her," she practically sobbed. It was hard to tell if she were actually affected or just acting, with the way her eyes were wet and heavy with guilt, her voice cracking and straining in all of the right places. "She ran away - she probably felt that she had no where else to go after our fight. But she was a good friend of mine, despite our falling out." She took a deep breath, and was shaking as she wiped her eyes clear of tears. "I'm so sorry that this happened - this shouldn't have happened!"
Camera then shifted from the distressed actress to the anchorman.
"Thank you, Miss Van Helsing. But please do not blame yourself," he said, consoling the girl. "Moving on, more investigations are being made. But with the evidence presented so far, it may be fair to declare that Miss Eze is in fact a victim of this unspeakable tragedy. More details at ten."
An image of Miren flashed on the screen, then the day's obituaries. Then there was a woman discussing Thanksgiving craft ideas.
Their response was silence. They glared at the screen, stupefied beyond belief.
"My necklace..." Miren scrambled through her suitcase, realizing that she had lost track of the broken chain for some time now. In fact, she didn't even remember bringing it here. She closed her eyes in a hard squint as the realization hit her.
She had dropped it somewhere. Most likely in her haste to leave St. Rosemunde. But then some homeless person picked it up, took refugee in an abandoned bakery, and then burned alive? Could life really be as coincidental as it was cruel?
Why not?
Time stopped, and it took the air with it. As Miren sucked in a futile breath, she felt the weight of the world crash down on her shoulders. The impact really should have killed her.
But she was already dead in more ways than one.